


arcanum

by mikkal



Series: junk in my trunk (and my documents folder) [7]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Incomplete
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 12:37:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12081213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikkal/pseuds/mikkal
Summary: Five people at Catco who know Kara is Supergirl without her knowing, and the not written one time she knows more than five people know.an incomplete Supergirl AU because I'm terrible at finishing things





	arcanum

[ one ]

Imani stares at the coffee pot with the sort of mournful expression that only happens when an overworked person finds a mostly full pot of coffee absolutely stone-cold.   
  
She grips her mug a bit tighter, bemoaning internally on how a pot of coffee managed to even survive this long to remain at that level. It’s CatCo. Coffee is their lifeblood. And sorry, but working on one of the top floors makes most people like her less inclined to head to the Starbucks in the bottom lobby or the cafe down the street.

What to do?

It would be a waste to pour it out. And honestly, she’s sort of been banned from making coffee since she makes it so strong no one else is really willing to drink it. So if she empties it, she can’t refill it.

But she doesn’t want to drink cold coffee either. Iced coffee? Yes. Hell yes times a hundred. But room-temp-cold? Ugh.

She taps a pretty nail against the ceramic of her mug, pondering her thoughts for a solution.

  
Oh! Oh! Ah-ha!

Imani twirls out of the little break room into the main bullpen, eyeing her destination with a single mindedness that only comes from being caffeine-deprived. Her goal is sitting at her desk, glasses on and blond hair in a bun this time around. She looks absolutely adorable in the dark blue sweater and white blouse that’s folded over the collar.

“Kaarraa!” she sings, waltzing to a stop in front of the other woman’s desk.

Kara looks up, pushing up her sliding glasses. “Oh, hey, Imani,” she says with a bright smile. “What can I help you with?”

She leans over, catching a glance of an interesting conversation going on between Kara and someone with a Superman icon, and smiles her most winning smile. “You know how I’m banned from making coffee?” she answers with a question, letting some slyness come into her expression. Kara struggles not to laugh, hiding her amusement behind pressed lips and a not-so-subtle brush of fingers over her mouth. “Would you be a dear and make some coffee? Everyone just loves your technique.”

“Er, sure. Uh. Hold on. I’ll go do that right now!”

Imani stays behind just a second, watching the cute blond hurry her way to the break room, then follows her at just the right pace to find Kara staring at the coffee pot and some pretty lights coming from her eyes.

She smothers a laugh behind her hand. Heat vision. At this point it’s a standard superhero power, right? Superman can do it, too.

It takes only a couple seconds for the coffee to be steaming and at that point Imani coughs politely to get Kara’s attention. Despite the fact that one) she hadn’t been quiet and two) even if she had been, it’s not like Kara couldn’t hear her anyway - Kara jumps, whirling around with a nervous smile.

Oh, sweetie.

“How does a full pot go cold around here?” Kara asks, voice pitched just ever-so-slightly too high.

Imani shrugs. “Who knows,” she answers, deepening her voice a bit to give a little balance. She walks over and pours herself the perfect amount - as in, to the rim - and takes a sip, sighing at the bit of scalding. “I don’t know how you do it,” she says casually. “Somehow you made the coffee brew so fast and it tastes exactly like it did when I had the first cup back when it was really full. You’re a miracle worker.”

Kara’s face flushes bright red, her gaze flicking to the floor. “I dunno,” she mumbles, sounding bashful and nervous. “Talent?” She laughs softly. “Excuse me. Miss. Grant needs some paperwork by noon.”

She glances at the clock. Ten-oh-three. Oh, yeah, sure. Miss. Grant needs paperwork. Imani shakes her head. That Kara, always the hard worker.

“Thank you,” Imani says. Hesitates, then adds, “- for the coffee.” Instead of what she actually wants to say - which is I know. Okay? I know and I just want to say thank you. Thank you so much. “Would you like a cup?”

Kara eyes her cup then the pot, then shakes her head, already halfway out the door. “No, but thank you. See you around, Imani.”

Imani watches her go, taking another sip.

And, well, if a cup of coffee finds itself on Kara’s desk ten minutes later with her preferred amount of five sugars and three creams, no one has to know except Imani and the coffee pot. It’ll be their little secret.

The fact that a single cup isn’t enough in the world for how much Kara deserves. That, she thinks, can also stay between her and the pot.

* * *

  
[ two ]

CatCo is always so quiet at night after the majority has left. There’s a few stragglers around here and there, working on ongoing projects or burning through a breakthrough.

Mikkel likes it quiet like this. He likes being able to talk to the few people in the silence, without the threat of being overwhelmed by too many noises and sights. The people who stay late - though they may be stressed to their last nerve - are unfailingly nice and they always offer him a tired smile.

There’s one person that’s his favorite, though. And he can’t help his own smile from growing as he makes it closer to the main bullpen of the massive building. Cat Grant sometimes stays late despite what others may think (or say) about her, but a certain someone stays even later nine out of ten times, desperate to prove herself and never fail.

A frown falls over his face when he rounds the corner and the desk is empty. There’s an empty coffee cup that he takes to the break room, darting around that room for any sign of her. He wipes up the rings of brown stains on her desk, tossing the towel in the trash.

Really, he has his own project to get to. He can’t go wandering around CatCo at night, hoping to at least say hi. One, it’s kind of creepy. And two, he’s already a day behind from taking a sick day. While he does have the ability to have an extended deadline, he doesn’t like being a day behind.

He calls it quits and moves to head back to his own office when a soft sound causes him to pause. Mikkel steps back from leaving, straining his ears. There’s a long moment of silence before he hears it again.

A snore.

Mikkel raises an eyebrow. For real? Is that - ?

Another snore sounds.

He shuffles back into the bullpen, creeping around the desks on his toes until he makes it back to that one desk. This time, though, he peers around to the other side.

Then sighs at the sight that he finds.

“Oh, Kara,” he murmurs.

She snuffles in her sleep, curled into an impossibly tight ball under her desk. Her hair is a tangled mess around her head. But with her expression soft and her brow unfurrowed, he doesn’t have the heart to wake her up.

Instead he rummages around until he finds this floor’s stash of late-night blankets (or those emergency blankets for when the villain of the week is cold-aligned) and drapes it the best he can without waking her up. He tucks the edges of her red cape under her, making sure the blanket covers up any signs of her suit.

“You work yourself too hard,” he whispers to her, finally covering the blue of her shoulder with the blanket.

When he gets back to his office, he makes sure James Olsen gets an inexplicable message to go check in Miss. Grant’s bullpen for a certain superheroine. Maybe he can convince her to sleep in her own bed where it’s more comfortable.

He snorts. Who is he kidding? She overworks herself so much, as soon as James wakes her up she probably going to be gone for a patrol.

No one has to know it’s Mikkel who leaves the flowers on Kara’s desk that morning with a thank you note and a smiley. No one but him and the flower girl.

* * *

  
[ three ]

“IT help desk, this is Gabriel. May I get your ticket number please?”

“Uh, ticket number 1054675?”

Gabriel smiles to herself, righting her seat so all four legs touch the ground once more and leans forward to rest her elbows on her desk. She doesn’t even look up the ticket to know what this is about or, rather, she doesn’t need to look up the ticket number to know who is calling.

“Hey, Kara. What’s wrong this time? Keyboard or phone?”

“...phone,” she answers, voice small. “But just the handset this time, I promise!”

She chuckles. “I don’t know how you do it, Kara. I wish you’d tell me the gym you go to, or your personal trainer. That’d be nice. Maybe I could finally beat my girlfriend in those stupid arm wrestling competition she keeps dragging me into.”

Kara laughs awkwardly in response. “I guess I don’t know my own strength sometimes,” she says in a small voice. “I’ll be more careful, I swear.”

“Oh, no! You’re fine, I promise,” Gabriel assures her quickly, feeling guilty that her teasing turned Kara inward. “You’re already improving. Compare now to this time last year then versus when you first got here? Injured parties has decreased by, like, seventy-percent with a ten-percent margin for error. You’re good. You’re good.” She clear her throat. “I’ll do my best to get your new handset to you in the next couple days. There’s been a backlog of urgent tickets,” she lies.

Kara sighs. “Thank you, Gabriel.”

She hangs up and sits there for a moment, tapping her fingernails on the desk in a preppy beat. What do? She could get Kara a new handset by the end of the night, really, but it just doesn’t seem right.

So she turns to the internet. Searching any what ifs? and any superhero blogs for speculation on materials that could be good enough to create a durable enough handset for someone with super strength to use without breaking it every couple of months when the stress gets a little too much.

She finds it in a user called Mister Action on a forum about Superman and Supergirl. They, because the ‘mister’ part means absolutely nothing when there’s a screen between then, suggest a metal that came from a meteor crash site just a little bit out of National City. What are the odds of that?

Could she get someone to make a compatible handset? With a low cost? Because, sorry, but minimum wage even in the IT field is not enough to pay out of pocket for a high quality phone.

Ugh!

She makes a quick account and PMs Mister Action with the question - citing world-building for a story as her excuse. The answer comes quicker than she expects, along with a real life name of who could make a phone like that (if she, you know, wants real life specs for more detail) and an approximate cost.

Hm, not too bad. Still a lot, but not too bad.

It’d be worth it. So worth it.

* * *

  
[ four ]

The whole building rumbles and shakes on it’s foundation. Halide catches herself on a desk, slamming her shin against the metal legs. She swears under her breath, rubbing at the spot.  
Dust rains from the ceiling as the CatCo building shudders once more.

* * *

  
[ five ]

Sebastian is literally - literally - minding his own business, trying to get the stubborn spreadsheet in order before he loses his head, when a blur outside his window catches his attention.

  
For a second he thinks it just a bird - but then he remembers that there are absolutely no birds in the city that large.

  
When the blur goes around again, he leaps from his seat and rushes to the window. He ignores the clatter of his chair falling to the ground as he presses his nose against the glass to watch a familiar blond woman fly outside his office.

  
His jaw drops.

  
That’s….Impossible.

  
Is it?

* * *

  
[ six]

There is a moment. Many moments, really. When Kara really, really thinks about her life here on Earth.

 


End file.
